The bartender took one look at me and disappeared into the kitchen. I waited a good five minutes until he wrangled up some take out orders like they do in a sandwich shop and got some drinks mixed and garnished like they do in a cocktail lounge. In the meantime, several staff members walked by carrying drinks, not deigning to acknowledge me. When the bartender returned, he seemed to have forgotten me and began cleaning some glasses. Finally I got his attention. But my consternation didn’t end there.
When I told him I wanted a beer, he brought me a menu of more than 150 craft brews, thirty wines, martinis, cocktails and virgins. Overwhelmed, I sought to simplify matters by asking him what was on tap, whereupon he brought me a tent card with twelve more brews and began a convoluted explanation of what was out-of-stock, what had been substituted and what was about to be deleted. Before I could jab my finger at one, he disappeared again.
Finally, I managed to get a beer. And then I asked for the menu. The menu was six pages long and had more than 100 sandwiches on it, along with burgers, salads and appetizers. I was about to get frustrated with all the choices when I noticed that the top ten most popular sandwiches had been highlighted and were cleverly name after the people who had invented them, much like the furniture at Ikea. I got the bartender’s attention and ordered a Herman M., a sandwich of ham, prosciutto, apple, brie and honey mustard. But he only shook his head. “That’s not how you do it,” he said.
I was now directed to the back of the menu where I was instructed to build my sandwich piece by piece like a Build-a-Bear Workshop. Naturally I could choose the ingredients in the Herman M. if I wanted. But for some reason I couldn’t just order the Herman M. and be done with it. By now I was nearly famished and would’ve settled for a pack of saltines, but I wasn’t done choosing things yet. Before he could finish taking my order I needed to choose two sides. Blessedly, there were only eleven of them, two of which they were out of. By the time I was done ordering a sandwich and a beer, there were three menus in front of me consisting of more than eight pages and hundreds of items.
Look, I like variety and inventiveness as much as the next guy, but at some point it approaches the absurd. Here’s a good yardstick: if the quantity and variety of items you’re offering make it problematic to serve your customers, maybe you’ve gone too far.
Having survived the ordeal of ordering, I must say I was genuinely impressed by what I got. The Two Brothers bitter on tap was a clean finishing golden amber malt with notes of peaches and caramel. It was so eye-openingly delicious that I ordered it again, in spite of the fact that there were more than 150 other brews vying for my attention.
The sandwich, a Heman M. of my own making, was hands-down one of the best sandwiches I’ve enjoyed in a long time. The potato salad was zesty. The mac and cheese good.
At some level I feel like I’ve been through an initiation with Jerry’s. Like a second year New Yorker, I’ve figured out how it works now, and the next time I come around I’ll be part of the in crowd, and can sit back smugly and smirk when some rube comes in and fumbles around trying to figure out how to do things. I can enjoy the excellent food and drink without embarrassment and pride myself on how savvy I am.
But I wonder for Jerry’s sake how many other customers will feel the same way. And how many will just conclude it’s all more trouble than it’s worth.
Jerry’s
1938 W. Division St.
773-235-1006 / Reservations Not Accepted
Hours: Su-Tu 11am-11pm; W-Sa 11am-2am;
Features: Outdoor Dining, Brunch, Lounge Scene, Late Kitchen, Carryout, Delivery
Avg. Price of a Meal for two including drinks and tax $40
Website: www.jerryssandwiches.com
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